An Adventure of Lonliness
by ailishmckechnie
Summary: ON HOLD- Sorry it took so long to notify, I thought I had? The Dursley's had taken their only son to the movies with a couple of friends from his school. Unknown to them, their sixteen year old nephew, Harry Potter, sat at home fighting not only with his thoughts and feelings, but for his very life.
1. Loneliness

**Loneliness**

_**DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros Entertainment Inc, and Property solely of J.K Rowling.**_

_A/N: I will let you know that, as of right now, I have NO idea were I may go with this story, as with all of my stories, I write what relates to my life as it happens. There is no knowing where this may go, or what may take place between here and the end. Think of it as an adventure, with out having to leave the comfort of your computer chair..._

**Loneliness**

**Number four Privet Drive was quiet as Vernon and Petunia Dursley had taken their only son, Dudley to a new movie with a couple of Dudley's friends from school. Unknown to them, their sixteen year old nephew sat at home, fighting not only with his own internal thoughts and feelings, but with a sever illness, that with out intervention and treatment would only get worse and bring him close to death.**

Harry sat at his desk, his head resting on his hands, his eyes staring at a piece of blank parchment, wondering what he should write, or more importantly, if he should write anything at all. He felt overly tired and had a heavy cough which had developed a week or two into his summer holiday. He missed his friends, and he missed Hogwarts, his home away from home. He had been home for the holidays for a few weeks now, and had not received a single letter from Ron, Hermione or anyone else for that matter. They had even missed his birthday! At first Harry had been worried, but as the weeks went by he started becoming angry, surely someone would have told him if something had happen to his friends. This left either Dumbledore or his friends to blame. Dumbledore could have forbidden them from writing again, but if Harry was in their position, he would have sent something, anything to keep them informed, and if it wasn't Dumbledore's interference than perhaps they had decided that he was too dangerous, too reckless, too marked, to be around. After the Department of Mysteries, he wouldn't be surprised if this was their new take on the life of Harry Potter. Thinking over the last year events, Harry started wondering if he still had friends. He started coughing violently and struggled to inhale enough oxygen. Once the fit was over he thought over all the years and adventures that Hermione, Ron and he had overcome together. The idea that they may no longer want to be friends with him made him feel very alone. He thought of Sirius. If Sirius had still been alive, if he had not gone to the Department of mysteries to save Harry, and if Harry had only listen to Hermione when she told him it could of been a trick, if only, then Harry would have someone, and something to write about. Harry was slowly becoming depressed from the isolation and his own thoughts.

He sat upright, one hand pressed tightly against his scar, which was now burning beneath his fingers; Harry got the brief impression that Voldemort was very unhappy over something. As the burning feeling faded, Harry ran his fingers over his scar, it was still painful, but it was slowly fading to an annoying tingling sensation. He went back to staring at the blank parchment and wondered if he should write about the burning in his scar, but decided against it. So instead, he sat staring at the piece of parchment and thought back on the last few weeks...

The day after Harry had returned from Hogwarts he had been woken early by his Aunt and informed that he would be working for his keep, she had given him a list of all manners of chores, and everyday since he had been woken up around six and after showering would start the day's list of chores. Many consisted of out door work, such as gardening, mowing the lawn and washing his Uncle's car.

On days that it was raining, he was set to cleaning out the basement, which they were going to turn into a lounge area for Dudley and his friends. Harry found the musty air of the basement nearly suffocating, and had spent a huge portion of his time down gasping for air and coughing his lungs out while working. So far Harry had moved the boxes in the basement all to one side. He had started with the boxes of Dudley's old clothes and toys. He threw away anything that he thought would not longer fit Dudley into a neat pile along one wall, which surprisingly was a lot, as Dudley had lost a lot of weight since the run in with the Dementor's the summer before fifth year. He threw out the majority of the toys as many were broken or damaged beyond repair.

Dudley had developed the annoying habit of coming down into the basement while Harry was working to rifle through the piles of discarded items. He would sit on the floor cross-legged beside the piles of discarded items for about half an hour each day, pulling things out of piles and then throwing things back in. Sometime Harry would stop working to sneak a glance at what his cousin was doing. A few times their glances had met and Harry had thought his cousin was going to say something to him as his cousin would open his mouth as if to speak, but his cousin would then just look down and go back to rummaging. The rummaging annoyed Harry because he would then have to spend extra time cleaning up the piles again.

Harry had planned to do the photo album boxes next, but it had stopped raining before he had begun on those.

His Aunt and Uncle had so far ignored his existence, going so far as to not even talk to him. The only words he had heard from any of them was Aunt Petunia explaining the chore arrangement.

Harry was jaunted out of his thoughts as he fought to stop coughing. His throat was becoming sore from the effort so he gave in and waited it out. Deciding that staring at a piece of paper was pointless and moving from the desk, Harry paced the floor in front of his bed instead. He stopped pacing as he crouched over coughing, gulping for air in between each wave.

"I'm coming down with something" he said to himself sarcastically, and he waited for the last of the fit, then layed down on his bed, exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep within moments.


	2. Chapter 2 Chores & Conversation

_**DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros Entertainment Inc, and Property solely of J.K Rowling.**_

A/N: I'm a better reader than I am a writer, so please bare with me as I attempt, yet again, to write my own story:)

I'm also sorry for the multiple uploads, but I was having a hard time figuring out the document manager.

Chapter Two: Chores

Harry was in an deep but peaceful sleep for the first time since the fiasco at the department of mysteries. He usually woke before his alarm went off at six from nightmares involving the events of the last year. Some time he woke from nightmares that were so weird and bizarre that he couldn't make heads nor tails out of why it woke him. However, his peaceful sleep wasn't going to last much longer.

'Up! Get up! Now!'

Harry woke with a start, which turned into a coughing fit and a fight for oxygen as his body tried to react to the surprise of being woken so abruptly. His aunt rapped at the door again.

'Up! Up!' she screeched. Harry heard her walk down the hall and descend down the stairs.

'Most likely headed to the kitchen to write my list of chores for the day' thought Harry.

He rolled on to his back which was aching terribly and tried to inhale deeply but couldn't as it felt like there was a ton of bricks sitting on his chest. He glanced over at the clock on his night stand. It read six in the morning.

'I wonder why it didn't go off,' thought Harry.

He coughed some more as he slowly rose from bed and went through his wardrobe to find something to wear. He pulled out an old black pair of Dudley's sweat pants and a worn plain white t-shirt. He decided that he was too tired to bother showering and there wasn't much point before doing his chores, so he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

His aunt was waiting beside the refrigerator with a piece of paper in her hand. Her bony facials features showing how she felt about having to converse with her nephew that she rather pretend didn't exist.

'These are your chore for today, you will start as soon as breakfast is over and you will have all of them done before dinner, or you won't get any!' his aunt said and with that she handed the list to Harry.

She started to walk away but turned back and screeched, ' You better not burn any of Vernon's breakfast boy, or Vernon will deal with you,' before heading back upstairs.

Harry uncle had not taken well to the order's intimidations tactics on the platform at the end of last year and had become a bit more violent in his punishment methods because of it.

Harry glanced down at the list in his hand. It was a long list, once again consisting mostly of outdoor work, which Harry preferred as his aunt never came out to hover over him as she did inside the house.

The first thing Harry did was divided up the list, and make a mental note of the chores he wanted to get done first. He decided that he would start with the outdoor chores as soon as he finished making breakfast, as it was early and therefore the sun wouldn't feel so hot and he wouldn't become as badly sunburned as he had a couple of weeks ago.

Once he had the list figured out for the day he taped the list to the fridge and started on breakfast. He put the frying pan on the cooker and then rummaged in the refrigerator for everything he would need to make eggs and bacon, with toast. He set the table before beginning on the toast.

He threw a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster, and then started frying up the bacon. Each time the toast popped he would pull them out, butter them, place them on a covered plate and then put more bread in the toaster. He did this until the bacon was mostly done, and then started making a skillet full of scrambled eggs.

He had just set everything on the table after a coughing fit, when the whole of the Dursley family came marching into the kitchen.

'Breakfast better be ready boy!" His uncle grumbled while walking into the kitchen. He looked at the food on the table before seating himself and scoping large amounts of food on to his plate.

Dudley and his aunt followed his uncle example and without a word sat down to eat.

Harry walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the paper with the list of chores on it. As he was walking from the kitchen he had to stop as he was overcome with a coughing fit, he was gasping for air when his uncle screeched,

'You won't be getting out of your chores just because your sick boy!'

Harry hadn't even considered it a possibility, so without comment he slowly walked from the kitchen and went up to his room to grab his shoes.

Harry never saw the look of concern that had flashed across his cousins face before being replaced my a mask of indifference.

Harry entered his room, and looking around spotted his trainers by the end board of his bed.

'I need to clean up my room,' he thought briefly as he looked at the crumpled bits of parchment on and around his desk from his attempts to write something down to send off to his friends. He looked at his opened trunk with it's overflowing mass of chaos and at his unmade bed.

Shaking his head at the mess, he threw on his trainers and walked backed down to the main floor, out the front door and around the back to the shed to grab what he'd need to begin on his long list of chores.

Harry spent most of the early morning hours of the day working outside on his aunts garden. His first chore was to pull all the weeds in and around his aunts garden. His already sore back protested this chore more and more with each pulled weed, and the ache was fast becoming a sharp pain. He followed this chore with replanting of his uants favourite flowers, hedging the bushes and trimming and edging around the property. As the sun beams grew hotter with the passing hours, Harry began sweating heavily and his limbs were trembling with exhaustion. It was slow going work as he had to kept pausing for coughing fits that left him feeling mildly dizzy and disoriented.

His uncle had left for work soon after he had finished his breakfast, so Harry had been able to slow down his pace with out fear of repercussions, which Harry had been thankful for. The dizziness hadn't subsided any, and the lack of food was helping exhaustion to settle in quickly.

After finishing the outside chores Harry started on the chore's inside. The cooler atmosphere from the air conditioning lifted some of the exhaustion that had built up through the morning and he was able to finish the inside chores slightly quicker and with more efficiancy. He had, had to sweep, vaccuum and dust every room in the house. Polish not only the good silverware, but all the silverware, wash the dishes, prepare dinner and have it in the oven and finished an hour before his uncle was to return home.

Harry decided to use the hour between then and having to serve dinner to rest. He slowly and unsteadily climbed the stairs and once in his room, crumbled on his bed where he passed out until his aunt came to get him to serve dinner. After serving dinner, he left the Dursley's to themselves and returned, exhausted, to bed.

The next few days continued in this vain. With each passing day Harry became more easily exhausted, weaker and unsteady. The coughing fits became longer and harsher, each one leaving Harry gasping for air and wheezing heavily. His chest felt constricted and he constantly felt dizzy and disoriented.

One day around lunch time, Harry felt so exhausted he decided to take a quick break and sat down upon the front stoop. His Aunt Petunia had gone out earlier that day which gave Harry the ability to take said break. He used the front of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and after a couple of minutes was debating getting back to work when his cousin Dudley came out and sat upon the front stoop beside him with a glass of cold orange juice which he handed to Harry.

Harry stared at his cousin for a second in surprise before mumbling a 'thanks' and proceeded to gulp it down in one go. As he handed the empty glass back to his cousin he noticed that his hand was trembling worse than usual and his cousin upon seeing that, looked as if he wanted to say something. Harry sat there and waited.

His cousin looked to be having a internal debate with himself before he asked,

'How sick are you?' Harry, not in a rush to get back to work and curious as to why his cousin was all of a sudden speaking to him, decided to answer.

'Don't know,' Harry replied without emotion, but out of curiosity asked, 'why do you care?'

'Not sure,' Dudley said honestly, 'but it can't be good, what with that Moldyvort, or whatever his name was, being after you.'

His cousin looked un-easy. Harry assumed he was remembering the Dementor attack from last summer.

'It's Voldemort,' Harry said, laughing at Dudley's version of the name,'but I like your version better'.

Laughing apparently triggered something because it was a few minutes before he could breathe, as he was overcome with a coughing fit which caused his lungs to feel as if they were on fire.

'What do your kind usually do when you get sick? Wave it away?' His cousin asked, as he observed Harry attempts to inhale.

'No, we have our own version of medicines.' Harry replied, 'Potions instead of pills, healing salves, things like that.' Harry was surprised that they were even having this conversation.

'Dud, why do you want to know about all this?' Harry couldn't help but ask. 'Just last year you were afraid of everything magical, the word magic or wand would send you running in terror, and now, now you sit here calmly beside me, your hated cousin, asking about magical remedies and the like. Why?'

Dudley looked down at his hands before replying, and when he did, it was in one big gush of breathe.

'I was in the kitchen when the letter from your headmaster arrived before we picked you up from the train station. Dad was laughing about how your headmaster had warded your owl and the house so you couldn't send mail, or receive mail, and about how your godfather had died while trying to rescue you, how they removed something called order guard's from here, and your sick and well you look sicker each day, and I don't hate you, so I was wondering what should be done if you get really sick, and if you can't send for help, what do we do if you're attacked or get hurt real bad?'

Harry had to ask Dudley to repeat what he said, but slower, because he hadn't been able to understand a single thing.

Dudley took a few minutes to steel himself and then repeated everything slower.

'DUMBLEDORE DID WHAT!' Harry roared, before he was overcome with a coughing fit. He was pissed, he was livid!

Dudley jumped. He hadn't known that this information would cause this reaction from his usually passive cousin. He wasn't even sure what part of what he had said had caused Harry to all of a sudden look as if you was ready to kill.

'I'm sorry Harry! What did I say? I wasn't trying to upset you, really!' Dudley pleaded.

Harry looked at his cousin's paniced expression and had to roll in his temper with a will power he hadn't had to use in a long time.

'Dud, I'm not mad at you.' Harry gasped as he was once again caught by a tremendous coughing fit. 'I'm pissed at my headmaster'.

They both jumped to their feet quickly when they heard a crack from down the street. Harry turned fast and pulled out his wand, but before he could even look around for the cause of the noise the world all of a sudden tilted on it's axis and before he could say a thing, the world narrowed and went dark.

Dudley turned back just in time to see Harry's face lose all colour and watch as his cousin suddenly collapse upon the front stoop. His head bounced against the concrete step and blood started gushing from a head wound close to his temple.

A/N: I have revised this chapter as I have come to realize that I cannot write Petunia Dursley in character, and therefore had to remove her so as to continue the story.


	3. Chapter 3 Dudley?

_**DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros Entertainment Inc, and Property solely of J.K Rowling.**_

_A/N: Hello All, I must say I am extremely sorry for the wait for an update, but must admit that_ I'm at a loss as to where I was once going with this story. I was ill at the time with _Pneumonia when I_ started it, and am once again ill with it. As I mentioned before i'm a better reader then writter. So my question is this, what are YOU hoping to see/ get out of this story. My main objective was to have a post Ootp story as I tend to convince myself that the last two book never happened. I also happen to be M.P.D and can not get my 'selves' to agree on a particular direction for this story, so any suggestions?

_Dudley turned back just in time to see Harry's face lose all colour and watch as his cousin suddenly collapse upon the front stoop. His head bounced against the concrete step and blood started gushing from a head wound close to his temple._

_Chapter 3- Dudley?_

Dudley was shocked, 'what just happened?'

Looking around Dudley couldn't pinpoint where the noise had come from. He looked at his cousin laying on the ground, many thoughts ran through his head to fast to understand, all he could grasp was that one moment he had been talking to Harry, then a crack, and the next second Harry had collapsed. What was he suppose to do?

Dudley looked at his unconcious cousin, the head wound was still seeping blood, but not at an alarming pace. He walked over to Harry and decided to get Harry back inside the house.

Dudley slowly and carefully slipped his arms under his cousin and as slowly as he could picked him up.

'He weighs next to nothing,' Dudley thought as he slowly moved up the walkway and climbed the step to the front door and manouvered Harry and himself through it.

Knowing that his mother would freak should he place his dirty and bloody cousin any where in her spotless and carpeted living room he walked toward the kitchen.

When Dudley entered the kitchen he slowly layed Harry upon the kitchen floor out of the way of the entrance. It would be the easiest place to clean before his mother came home.

Dudley felt at a loss of what to do next.

'What would mum do, if it where me?' He asked himself.

Thinking back to when he had come home from a late night fight at the park he thought of what his mother had done to fix him up.

'She cleaned me up, so I need the roll of bandages, the medic tape, the package of cotton swaps, and that antiseptic stuff.' He thought.

He ran up the stairs as fast as his bulk would allow, and into the bathroom. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet till he found what he needed and then ran back down into the kitchen. Nearly tripping in the process.

He walk to his cousin's side, and looked down. There wasn't much improvement. He was still unconcious, but breathing and the bleeding looked to have stopped.

'That something.' Dudley mutter sarcastically.

Dudley bent down over Harry. He uncapped the bottle of antiseptic and pulled out a cotton swap which he poured a small amount of antisptic onto and used it to wipe the blood from Harry's head. When the liquid touched the wounded area it fizzled and turned white.

Dudley remembered when his mum had used this stuff on his scraps and cuts, it had burned and stung like crazy.

' At least he's unconcious and can't feel it,' Dudley thought.

After cleaning the cut up, Dudley pulled out the bandages and placed them as neatly as possible over the wound. He used a fair amount of tape to make sure it stayed in place.

Dudley sat back and tried to think of the next course of action.

'Should he call his mum home?' He thought that over before deciding against it.' She wouldn't care and would probable just tell Harry to get back to his chores.

He re-capped the bottle of antiseptic and sat cross-legged beside his cousin. He put his head in his hand a just sat thinking.

'What had caused him to care about his once dispised cousin?' 'The Dementors' thought Dudley.

He remembered how Harry had been just as scared as he himself had been last years when Dementors, not like he had know what they were at the time, had shown up out of nowhere intent upon getting to Harry.

Harry, however, had not run, and left Dudley to his fate, even though Dudley knew that had the tables been turned, he would have left Harry.

Harry had not only stayed, but even after years of Dudley having tormented him, Harry had tried to protect him from the Dementors.

Dudley knew he owed Harry, and if taking care of Harry was all he could do while Harry was ill and unable to recieve help from his own 'kind', then thats what he'd do.

He would make his mum see it from his point of view, they owed Harry for saving his life, and his mum knew that.

Giving up on attempting to figure out his feeling regarding Harry, he went back to trying to think out the next course of action with limited consequences when he heard a groan from the floor.

"Harry!' Wake Up! He frantically shouted at his cousin. Hoping that if he could get his cousin to stay awake, that he may get help in sorting out the situation.

"Come on Harry! Get up!"

"w'ats the m'tter" Harry groggly replied. He squinted and then attempted to sit up.

"No! Just lie still", Harry stopped trying to sit up, but his face scrunched up in confusion and asked. "What happened?"

"You passed out", Dudley said as he moved to sit closer and more comfortable on the floor. He crossed his legs and started fridgetting with the hems of his pants. They were silent for a moment. Both lost in thought.

Harry wondered why his cousin, who had hated him most his life, seemed to care suddenly. It confused him. It was so out of character for Dudley to be helping him, Harry.

Harry gave up on trying to sort out Dudley's odd behaviour when the muscles in his back gave a spasm of protest on lying on a hard, cold floor.

"I feel like I got hit by a train", Harry grumbled.

"Well, you did hit the ground pretty hard", Dudley said. "Hows your head?"

"It kills, but thats nothing new", Harry replied.

Dudley ignored the ending to the response and asked, "Do you think your alright to get up?"

"Mum should be home soon and I don't think her seeing you lying on the floor is a good idea."

Harry agreed, and knowing through experience, he slowly and carefully sat up, and when his head stopped swimming, got to his feet.

"Maybe you should just sit down for a bit?" suggested Dudley as he moved toward the kitchen table a took a seat himself.

Harry thought it a grand idea, his body ached and his head hurt. However knowing that if his aunt found him sitting at the kitchen table instead of doing his chores he have to face her screaming and she tell his uncle and then he'd be in deep trouble.

"I have to finish my chores", He responded to Dudley, and Dudley looked at him with an odd emotion running across his face.

Harry was to disoriented to pay much attention to this however as he sway on his feet.

"There is no way your going to finish them in your state, and you'll only make matters worse for yourself." He said. "I will explain to mum what happened, and that your sick."

Harry would have argued that he doubted that his aunt would care, but his head started to swim again and so he acknowledged Dudley's point and said, "Alright, night then". As he turned to leave Dudley said,

"Here I'll help you get upstairs",

Dudley got up from the table and crossed to Harry and put one of Harry's arms over his shoulder and used the other to hold Harry standing up right. They made there way slowly up the stairs and into Harry's room.

The moment he got to his bed, he collapsed upon it and fell asleep.

Dudley watched his cousin for a moment more before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros Entertainment Inc, and Property solely of J.K Rowling.**_

_A/N: I do apologize for the very short, un-edited chapters, but as I have all of four more days in which to attempt to get a chapter or two out, it is all I can offer. Thanks to all those whom have read and reviewed so far. I hope to improve this story as best as possible in the near future. Thanks All. P.S. I recently realize many probably do not read writer bios, so i will make a note here. I am MPD and do realize that it makes many of my stories a bit bumping and un-organized, and the flow of plots tend to get distorted, and for this I am sorry. However, I do try and write to the best of my ability even with this and I make every effort to try and iron things out. Thanks to abs for reminding me to add this to my A/N. _

_Chapter 4- Conversation over tea._

Dudley Dursley of Number 4 Privet Drive sat alone in his room. Pale light seeped in through the closed bedroom curtains. It was late afternoon, the clock slowly ticking away on his night table warning of the approaching evening. The floor was stewn with rubbish. Broken video games, random playing cards, books he never read, wrappings from candy and chocolate alike, and clothes that were starting to let off a stale odour.

He noticed none of this as he sat quietly in his bedroom thinking. The house around him seemed un-naturally still for this time of day.

Usually his cousin's quiet and light footfalls could be heard as he moved from room to room working his way down a list of chores handed to him by his mother each morning. He would say not a word, just accept the list and walk away. His mother's high pitch voice would add a screeching ring throughout the house as she would follow him around, leaning over his shoulder, scolding every move Harry makes. Complaining about thing's been done to slowly or to inefficiently.

Not today. Today his cousin lay in his bedroom, alone and sick in the room next door to Dudley's own.

Dudley sat thinking about what he could do to help his cousin, something, Dudley thought, he should have done from the start when they were younger. Maybe then, if Dudley had made the effort to back his cousin, they could have been friends instead of enemys. Maybe then, his mother would have been a little more friendly to Harry, if even only to keep Dudley happy.

'The past is the past', he noted to himself, 'all I can do is try and help him now'.

His mother was bound to be home from her outting soon, and she would be piss to find Harry's chores unfinished, and Harry layed away in his bedroom, sick or not.

Dudley waited, and the waiting was killing him. He was never a patient person. To many years of having his way with out having to wait for what he wanted having left him intolerant to time slowly ticking by, but as it did he though over many different ways of aprroaching his mother. What would he say to get her to lay off Harry for awhile. Would she even listen? Thoughts like this and more bombarded his mine, and finally he decided on the direct approach.

An hour later he heard the front door unlatch and his mother's voice shriek up the stairs.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

'Here goes nothing', Dudley thought as he slowly walked from his room. He listen for a second to see if his mothers shouts had woken Harry up, and when it remain silent from Harry's room, he walked through the hallway and down the few stairs to the front entrance.

He glanced at his mother. Her faced was pinched and anger rolled off her in waves. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring up the staircase, obviously expecting Dudley to be Harry.

When she saw that it was Dudley and not Harry, her faced relaxed a little and she asked, "Where is that boy?" Anger still remained in her voice but she was obviously trying to restrain it from coming through.

"He's in his room mum." She looked to be drawing in breath so as to scream again, but Dudley cut her off.

"Mum!"

She let out the breath she had been inhaling and glanced back to Dudley.

"Yes, Dudders?"

"Please, just listen to me for a second and promise me you'll let me say my piece?"

"Of course, Dudders", She glanced up the stairs, and obviously coming to the conclusion that Harry was either not home, or ignoring her calls said, "but lets go in to the kitchen and talk over tea," as she picked up the packages from her feet and walk stiffly down the hall and into the kitchen.

Dudley followed close behind and waited until his mother placed her packages on the kitchen counter and then proceeded to make tea.

He stood in silence as he waited for the kettle and watched as his mum pored two cups of tea. She then proceeded to the table and placed both cups down and took a seat. She sat with her hands resting on the table, her fingers curled around her cup before turning to face Dudley.

"Whats the matter Dudders? Has that boy done something to you?"

Dudley drew in a deep breath in which to calm himself, and then crossed the floor and took a seat across from his mum. He unconsiously mimicked her and let the warmth from the cup calm him.

"No, Harry hasn't done anything." His mum gave him a funny look, probable at the use of Harry's given name, but kept her mouth close, obviously wanting for him to finish.

"Mum, Harry is really sick. Really sick. I know you and dad don't like him, but, I don't hate him, and he saved my life last year. I, no, we owe him for that at the very least. He could have left me to those Dementors, and after all the years of me and my friends tormenting him, I'd have deserved it."

His mum looked to be opening her mouth to say something, anger flashed in her eyes, but Dudley cut her off before she could so much as mutter a word.

"You said I could say my piece!" She closed her mouth, her fingers gripped the cup in her hands tighter, the anger stayed upon her face and she was noticable struggling.

"Anyways, Harry is really sick Mum, and I'm going to help him. It's the least I can do and if you and dad try to stop me..."

Dudley quickly thought of the worse punishment he could throw at her. Nothing was going to stop him from helping Harry.

His emotions wore worn clearly on his face as he looked to her, and as clearly and determined as he could he said, "I'll Leave!" and as an after thought added, "And take Harry with me!"

His mother's face went from anger to disbelief, before settling on resigned. Her fingers loosened and then she asked, "Why?"

"Because he's family,"

She looked shocked but then she quietly added, "Your father will be none to pleased."

"I know." Dudley looked up at her. 'Would she help convince his father?'

He waited as his mother down what was left of her tea. He followed her lead and did the same.

"I will speak to your father." She answered his unasked question. She looked suddenly drained, the anger gone, but something else linger. Dudley couldn't make out exactly what, but it didn't really matter. He had got what he wanted.

"Thank you." He said quietly, not having expected any support from her.

"How do you plan on helping him?" She asked.

"I don't know yet. When he wakes up, I'll asked him what he would usually do when he gets sick, I guess thats a starting place."

His mother face clearly showed that she did not like the idea, probably assuming it would involve magic.

"I don't want you to leave, so..." She was struggling. "You can help the boy, but I don't want to see or hear anything about, about, 'M' if thats what it takes to help him, keep it discreet and makes sure your father hears nothing of it, Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mum." He said.

They sat there staring at each other before she got up, and taking a few calming breaths said, "that's settled then." She walk over to the counter in which she had left the packages she brought in. "Help me put the groceries away."

Dudley nodded, and walked over to help. He would leave it to his mother to speak to his father and he now only had to wait for Harry to wake up.

After the packages had been unpacked and put away, his mother had said she was going to lie down and had headed upstairs to her bedroom. Her stiff walk and heavy footfalls up the stairs made it clear she was displeased. She's probably going to go think, thought Dudley.

Dudley glanced around the now empty kitchen, and feeling useless and rather bored decided that his first step to help Harry would be to feed the boy. 'He's way to light'.

Dudley had noticed that Harry had barely touched a scrap of food since arriving home for the summer. Dudley had passed it off as Harry being slightly depressed about being back home, but it was now apparent that it was more than that.

Dudley vaguely remembered something from one of his health classes about feeding ill people something light, so as to not upset the stomach, so he meander through the cupboards looking for something to make.

He finally settled on chicken soup from a can, and a couple pieces of butter toast.

He went to work on making the first ever meal he would make for his cousin.


End file.
